


Who Lifted the Microphone?

by uwunium



Category: Blaseball (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Season 3, Season 3 Elections, The Microphone - Freeform, Unlimited Tacos - Freeform, awful confident of my s3 hcs for someone who joined in s5, headcanons, unreality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:00:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27952748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uwunium/pseuds/uwunium
Summary: Wyatt Mason's journey to find a solution to the weakening bridge leads them to a strange, reality-warping microphone.(Written form of my headcanon of what caused the chaos after the season 3 elections. )
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	Who Lifted the Microphone?

**Author's Note:**

> The tacos discord had a major Wyatt Brain moment last night and I got inspired to write my headcanons down. This is merely one part of my entire HC about s3, which I might also write eventually idk. 
> 
> So thanks a TON to the tacos discord for giving me an awesome base to build off of. NAWBAT for life.

It was a rift.

At the top of the hill, there was a rift. In it, the young Wyatt Mason could see a million different realities flashing by all at once. A reality where their team was relegated. A reality where the league split into new categories. A reality where their teammates were standing together and fighting some evil force. It seemed like, within that rift, everything that could happen was happening.

The sky around Los Angeles had been…. Strange, needless to say. Ever since Lee Davenport pitched in game 73, winning the round for the tacos in a miraculous comeback. Wyatt shook their head. No, it was a loss. Morrow hit a grand slam and the Shoe Thieves beat the Tacos in an embarrassing defeat. No, no, that’s not it either. The entire memory of the situation flipped between realities, occupying space in the brain like a particle in superposition. But that wasn’t important.

Struggling to catch their breath, Wyatt reached the top of the peak. Their endurance had been sapped by their allergic reaction to a bunch of peanuts- even though it happened months prior, they still struggled to catch their breath, and had trouble focusing on the game thanks to the general fatigue. No, once again, they found themselves side tracked from the task at hand.

***************************

“You sure this is safe?” A nervous man in a blaseball mask looked from their computer. “Elections are in a few minutes, and all the gauges are nearly maxed out.” He pointed to one of the strange meters on the giant computer that took up the entire room. The gauge read “Electromagnetic Anomalies,” and its needle was dangerously close to red. 

“PARKER, I TRUST YOU TO KEEP EVERYTHING TOGETHER.” The otherworldly voice of an umpire echoed through the room.  
“But-”  
“DO WHAT YOU WERE HIRED TO DO.”

***************************

  
The ground here was strange. Every step Wyatt took, the grass seemed to lose texture, as though they were playing an unfinished video game. The ground beneath them would turn into a glowing pink mesh each time they stepped forward. At first it wasn’t noticeable, but the closer they got to the rift, the more pronounced it became; It was as though reality was faltering- falling- fracturing, beneath their feet as they approached the strange, multicolored tear in the sky. 

They recognized this strange glitching. They recognized it all too well. They had seen it all around them since the hazy memory of game 73- their friends occasionally flickered into this transparent, pink mesh, but solidified in the blink of an eye before Wyatt could consciously notice. They did see, however, the same effects that were happening to themself. They would look at their hands on occasion, finding that they could see through them as though looking through a pink lens, their shape defined by glowing magenta lines creating a mesh as though they were a 3D model that hadn’t finished loading in. They suddenly broke from their thoughts, remembering that they had once again gotten distracted. 

They weren’t far from the rift when they noticed something odd- right below the rift there was a strange, fully in-tact microphone. As they approached it closer and closer, they found that the distortion from their footsteps grew in power, nearly covering the entire peak of the hill in the glitched mesh by the time they reached the microphone.

***************************

“Do you think we’re gonna win anything?” An excited girl looked at the screen in the common area of the Al Pastor Stadium’s player quarters, her pet rat looking at the screen with just as much excitement.

“We’ll have to see.” Wanda Pothos put a hand on Polk’s shoulder. The countdown began, putting a minute on the clock.

60.

59.

***************************

Wyatt soon found themselves directly under the rift. By this point, the entire peak of the hill was the strange, mesh-texture, resembling unloaded regions of a virtual world. Wyatt looked at the rift above them. From here, they could see everything, yet nothing at the same time. They saw an empty plane, glowing magenta, yet towards the edges of the rift were countless different realities, different universes, seeming to play like footage from a movie. They understood the content of them, yet simultaneously could not begin to comprehend them.

They tried to reach out into the rift, to see if they could grab something. They failed. It was just slightly out of reach. They jumped a little to try and get more height. They were still unable to reach. This, of course, left only one option.

The microphone.

Maybe it was just some random thing that somebody left on the ground. They looked at it a bit closer, and confirmed what they had suspected- it seemed to be just an ordinary microphone. There was nothing special about it. But they had to try something.

They reached their hand towards the microphone to find the wire slowly starting to glow a bright magenta as they inched their hand closer. This unusual result gave them a spark of hope- maybe there WAS some way to fix this mess, and maybe this strange device could help. 

They wrapped their hand around the microphone.

And slowly lifted.

***************************

Parker paced around the room, nervously looking at the clock on the computer’s control panel.

45.

44.

Parker breathed a nervous breath and looked at the Electromagnetic Anomalies gauge once more. Somehow, the needle had moved even farther- now within the red. A small alert light flashed on beside the gauge, yet other than that, nothing happened. The needle was teetering dangerously close to the maximum level the device could withstand.

Parker sighed in both relief and nervousness. There was under a minute left. As long as nothing else happened within the next few seconds, the election would go without a hitch.

30.

29.

***************************

There was a sound. A screech. The pained mechanical scream of a microphone with its gain set too high. Feedback. 

The pink mesh overtook everything as far as Wyatt’s eyes could see. Underneath, they could still see the world functioning as it always had, cars were moving, people were walking, the wind was blowing. Yet their sight was overlaid with an infinite grid of glowing pink. It was as though the world was a malleable object in a 3D modelling environment. 

Wyatt looked around worriedly. This object seemed to carry with it an immense power- power that Wyatt couldn’t even begin to describe or understand or comprehend or control. But they had hope. They had hope that this object could be the key to returning Los Angeles to its former self, before the Grand Unslam.

Without thinking, they spoke into the microphone.

“Is this connected to something?”

They spoke again.  
“Hello?”

They took a breath and closed their eyes for a second before speaking a few final words.

“It’s me.”

  
“ _Wyatt Mason._ ”

***************************

The needle shot to the end of the gauge.

The sky above Los Angeles ripped open.

The players became Known.

The mesh reshaped the Tacos’ very reality.

The world went black.

**Author's Note:**

> My twitter is @uwunium and I'm Aubz on the blaseball discord. I post a lot of Blaseball. And a LOT of early tacos. And a LOT of NaN and Wyatt. Check out my twitter if that sounds cool to you.
> 
> This piece was sponsored by NAWBAT (NaN And Wyatt Brain Alliance of the Tacos) who paid me to write this by giving me an unlimited supply of tacos. (i am absolutely in NO WAY the creator of NAWBAT or anything though i promise /j)
> 
> ok that is all TY FOR READING


End file.
